


My Soul's Freezing

by susiephalange



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Armitage Hux Being An Asshole, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hux-centric, Married Couple, Minor Violence, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Princess!Reader, Reader-centric, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: Reader is the illegitimate firstborn to a King, a false princess. Her father signs a treaty with the First Order, who in turn for peace for her home planet, offers a marriage between General Armitage Hux and Reader. Little do they know of her bloodlines, and of the General himself.





	1. A Surrender Or A Revel

**Author's Note:**

> This started off being a one-shot, but I fell in love with it and well now it's a trilogy. Whelp...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being told you are to have an arranged marriage to General Armitage Hux, your life changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this concept isn't too overused in the fandom, but tbh I'd be very happy being married to Hux, and see his gorgeous ginger hair all the time...

You lived your whole life thinking one decision could be made by you. Just one. You were not someone of particularly good blood; your family would dispute that fact. You were the firstborn of a King, but to a different woman than his wife. Yes, you held a sort of status in the Galaxy, just not as Princess. You were just ... _______. Sister of eight princesses. Just a woman who had been trained from birth to be the perfect wife to a man of stature and power. You spent your days reading books on how to do things perfectly, learning politics and skills of the kitchen as well as defence of yourself alike. You had an iron-will about one thing, though: you would be the one who chose the man you married.

But it would seem, that the decision was chosen for you too.

It was a Sunday when you found out you were destined to have the hand of a man named Armitage Hux, the General of the First Order. It had been a fine Sunday indeed, until the news had been broken, and at once, you felt your heart shatter to shards upon the words that came from your father's lips. You were silent upon hearing when you would depart to meet your husband-to-be, hearing when the knot would be tied. You were a pawn; just a power-play for your father to secure protection of his kingdom from the First Order from the wars. 

If you had been allowed as a child to explore the kingdom, to meet the stable boys and the kids who rode speed racers, the children who had _lives_ and worked for their living, you might have fallen in love naturally. Fallen in love for the kingdom. But you were a false princess, by only one name, and not one which had the power.

You only hoped that the man you were to marry, Armitage, was a man who you could look in the eyes, a man who wouldn't hurt you, a man who might let you love him and him you. But that was the thing with hope; it was a silly thing princesses thought worked in their favour.

It never had for you before. Why now?

* * *

 

General Armitage Hux stood in the main control room, surrounded by his men and women, working relentlessly on the next strike against the Resistance. After Starkiller had been destroyed, all he had was the Finaliser, and his troops, his people and the will of Supreme Leader Snoke leading him forward while Ren was healing in the medbay wing from the battle with the scavenger girl Rey.

It had been a good day; no malfunctions, no rouge troupers, none of the captives taking a vessel into open space back to a sandy wasteland to waste his time and troops' effort in recapturing them. It was a good day, for there was no mayhem, just the usual status reports, lower command officers kissing his proverbial ass, focusing on the one thing he cared for, one thing alone: his work. 

Dopheld Mitaka had come to him moments before, and handed him a message. There was no one in the galaxies who had writing quite like his father, the war hero. Armitage knew it was him at a glance. With expertise, and haste, he opened the envelope, and began scanning the precise handwriting for what message his parents had deemed him not busy enough with his career to read. Slowly, his face turned pale, then, slowly, all a shade of red. His hands tightened on the parchment until it crumbled under his grip, under his fury. 

"Lieutenant Mitaka," he growled, calling over his employee. "Rouse Kylo Ren, and tell him that he is needed in the meeting room. I need a word with Supreme Leader Snoke."

* * *

Your bag was packed; what you loved was shoved in there as much as you could. You never expected that it would come to this, yet, here you sat, waiting for the go from your father. Your stepmother had told you all your life that you were just a minuscule spot in her life. Not as important as her eight daughters; you were the living reminder of her husband's infidelity. You supposed she was glad to see you gone. 

The door to your room opened; but instead of seeing your maid, a faceless boy, you saw the appearance of your father come through. You were not sure if you looked like him; he had a strong jaw, a straight nose. Perhaps you looked like your mother, more. If only your stepmother and queen hadn't destroyed all memory of her appearance in rage during your childhood.

"I see you are prepared," he tucked his hands behind his back. It was almost like he was in one of his meetings, and you were a diplomat from a far off planet who did not know of his ways. The ways in which he made deals with war harbingers and sold his firstborn for peace. "Are you well?"

You turned your gaze to the window. Outside, there was a view of the kingdom; of the planet as far as your eye could see. This had always been your room, your prison. It was the furthest room from the entrance, the furthest room from all life and joy in the castle. But it was your room, and you had made it so - and you were being forced to leave it.

"Yes, father," you echo. 

If you were not trained to be a perfect princess, or at least, half of one, you would have screamed; thrown your suitcase like it was just an item, and ordered him to release you from the legal bind that was placed upon you. But you were, and you had respect for the man who did not have you killed for existing, and his bastard daughter was forever in his debt, and reminded at the sight of him for this. 

"I am here to escort you to the General," he added, reaching a gloved hand for yours, as if to guide you to the ship. "I am to witness the ceremony to legalise the action."

You nod, and almost silently, you whisper, "Thank you, father." 

* * *

The ship lands in the deck. 

General Hux has seen grander ships; he is in the war business, after all, and has seen impressive models of all shapes and sizes. But the one which carries the woman his father decided apt for him to marry, who sought the advice of Supreme Leader Snoke without his knowledge of consent, is arriving as he thinks these thoughts. Talking to his superior, pleading and arguing against him was futile, useless when he was but a pawn essentially in both men's lives. 

He stood to attention, wearing a finer suit than his usual work uniform; the buttons on the front were polished silver, as were his cuff links, and the ring he had to choose for the ceremony. Armitage had given his workers a half day off, the occasion being he rather them resting than overworking under a inferior officer unsure of their own commands. 

From the ship, comes fourth two guards, and a man in a suit made of a green material. The man was King Hyperion, one of the last kings in the galaxies who kept his integrity, and did not allow his people starvation or slavery to live through their harsh winters through his benevolence and skills as a trader. Behind Hyperion, comes another form, flanked by two more guards. Her hair is tied back in an elegant, but simple fashion, as is her clothes. The first thing he notices is that she is wearing a dress of yellow, brighter than the sun in the east. It is an uncommon colour, one his troops do not wear, and surrounded by black and white, and red all day seemed monochrome compared to the pigmented dress she wears. 

As they approach, he reads into her appearance; she is no older than he is, slightly more youthful, judging by the way she does not assert herself into the situation, keeping her eyes averted. Her hands quiver, but they are held together, as if to quell their shaking. 

"Good day, General,"  King Hyperion greets him, extending a gloved hand to shake. "My daughter is here for the ceremony, and I am here to sign the accords." He states.

Armitage nods, eyes drifting to the woman beside him. "Yes, we shall get to that later. I have arranged for a room for your majesty's daughter to prepare in, and people who can assist. The ceremony will be later today."

* * *

In the room you were escorted to, you see it is just a small place for someone unimportant. It has a single bed, lined tightly to the wall, with a flickering light intermittently changing patterns of its lit-unlit state faster than your racing heartbeat. There is a bathroom attached to the small room, with a vanity, a shower and a small toilet. You consider emptying your last meal from home into the shiny, white bowl, but there's a voice in your head which insists you shouldn't. 

Climbing into the shower, you let the water cleanse you, heal what has been broken inside your heart by the events of late. By the time you get out, and dress in underthings, you notice a knocking on the door, but before you answer, are joined by a young woman, who, ignoring you, walks to the closet opposite the bed.

"Hello," your voice is but an undertone. "My name is Princess ________," you introduce softly. If you are to live here, you might as well start off well in someplace where you are not being stared at rudely by the red head who is to be your husband.

The woman opens the doors, plucking a long bag from within, places it on the bed. She straightens, and gives you a small smile. "My name is Anwen, and I am your servant, for as long as you wish me to be. I am here to dress you for your ceremony, and prepare your appearance for meeting the General." her voice is small, words practised, like she expected you to become furious at any moment. 

"Anwen, what a pretty name," you murmur, smiling. "I have no qualms with servants; it is people who serve who build worlds," you tell her. "Is that...a wedding dress?" you ask her.

Anwen nods. "The General had it imported from the other side of the system for you," she confides, reaching over the bed to undo the zipper for the bag it is inside of. "When I heard I was to work for you, I was overjoyed, as we never have royalty as guests, and never those in the finest wedding gowns in the universe."

You hang your head. "I am more than a guest, though," you whisper.

Her face blanches, hands dropping to her side at once. "I apologise, your highness - I did not think before speaking, I -,"

You wave her off, placing a hand on the wedding gown's material. "No not worry, you're not to blame here. I thought I was to live a life, to love whomever I pleased, but...that is history, now. I am to be General Armitage Hux's wife, and if that is what is decreed, what the stars say is so, then I will follow their word."

Anwen bobbed her head once more in affirmation. "They are very noble words, your highness." She gestured to the bathroom, and uttered words about what paint she would place onto your face, what makeup would enhance your beauty, but all you could think of was how very not-noble your blood was. 

* * *

Armitage waited at the front of the room. It was not used to officiate weddings, nor to sign accords; he had a grand meeting room for that, where ambassadors came, and sat and argued like birds in a shooting range, waging their lives to shoot at others. No, this room was but a simple training room, one he had not yet sanctioned for training. Armitage was glad; otherwise, he would not have been able to remove the stench of sweat and metal from the walls. 

Just as he was to think that his future wife - what a thing to think, a woman who had to stay by his side, whether he or she wished to be there or not - was late, the doors at the end of the room opened. The same face he had seen earlier came in, but instead of wearing vibrant canary yellow, she wore white, the [white gown](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gZTczDOcQjY/VTW-Pv50CPI/AAAAAAAADVY/x-h5M-Vi_K8/s1600/long%2Blace%2Bcloak.jpg) he had purchased and brought from the best weavers and craftsmen in the galaxy. The illusion neckline was sewn with scattered pale material flowers, as was the cloak attached to the dress, which trailed behind her footsteps. He felt almost under-dressed at the appearance of her, even if he was wearing one of the most handsome suits he owned. 

As she came to the front of the room, Armitage watched as her father stood off, behind her, and the officiant and judge came to read their vows. His voice was ancient, words slow, but efficient, and as he spoke the binding words, he could not help but glance to his bride-to-be's face, to take in her features closer than he had before that day.

She had (h/l), (h/c) hair, worked expertly into a fashion for the occasion, facial features alike her father, but not all. He had seen pictures of the queen of King Hyperion, of her high brow bones, and strong nose, but he could not seem to see that in her face. Perhaps she took after someone else in her family.

"I now shall name you, husband, and wife, General, and Princess." The officiant's words hit him in his chest, and feeling heat come to his face, Armitage realises the part that follows those words, just as the man spoke them, "You may kiss your bride, to seal the contract, to bind your souls together for all eternity, for death do you part."

Slowly, he brought himself closer, feeling the breath from her expelled upon his face. It has been a long time since Armitage has kissed someone, and by the way he notices the woman before him - his wife, now, he reminds himself - he can only guess she had never kissed a soul in her life. He nears his lips toward hers, simply placing them upon her own. 

"Now! We may sign the treaty, as discussed..." King Hyperion's voice jerks him from her proximity, reminding him who he was. General Armitage Hux, son of Brendol, Leader of the First Order. Not a fickle, romantic man, certainly not a man who enjoyed or revelled in physical contact with others. He notices the way his bride, Princess _______ flinches from him, and is reminded of his status and name once more. 

When it is all done, and King Hyperion returns to open space, to his kingdom, Armitage notices that ________ has not moved from where she stood, watching the ship of her father fly off into the darkness of the stars. From what he could tell of her, she was a practised woman, emotional; but wasn't that every one (bar Phasma, nothing seemed to phase her)?

He cleared his throat. "I suppose you wish to turn in for the night." He speaks his first words to his wife, unsure of how his voice sounds while he does talk to her. "If you follow me, I will direct you to my suite. Your luggage has already arrived there."

She only nods. 

* * *

That night, you lay in the bed beside Armitage Hux, your husband. You were yet to say a word to him, to speak anything other than under your breath or within your mind. You knew of the ways of the First Order, and now you were stuck for all eternity married to the man who made the orders to kill, to decimate souls in the name of politics. You were afraid to breathe too loudly, to turn under the sheets to alert him more so to your presence within his bed. 

 _I can only hope he will go on with his life like I am a flower upon the wallpaper, and does not hurt me like he does to those innocent people in the galaxies,_ you prayed silently, squeezing your eyes tight, silently hoping for sleep to take you away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying the story!


	2. About Me Or The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage can't understand your silence, and you cannot bear to be near a man as feared and deadly as the leader of the First Order. Help from those around comes in handy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to write this around my uni stuff (gosh I'd almost forgotten how much work study was! Eeep!) and hope you like it, Readers!

Life went on for Armitage from that day. He wasn't sure why he thought that thought, but it was in his mind, nonetheless. He donned his suit, left early in the morning, and continued his work as the finest General the First Order had seen in their current times. He spared a thought for his new wife, thinking of how she appeared in the bed as he crept from it before the wee hours; her hair a mess upon the pillow, eyes closed tight as if dreaming of her fears and other unpleasantness. She was yet to say a word to him, and Armitage did not mind. He only spoke to her because, well, they were married, and he needed to be places and do important things. If anything, he wished the whole affair could be forgotten, and then maybe after time, they would warm up to one another.

Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka milled around the vicinity, keeping an eye on all the workers that he could not see while back turned. He had given him a promotion, after Kylo Ren had throttled him, and now Mitaka was away from the likes of the Darth Vader's grandson, he seemed to be more at ease, and more dedicated to his work.

"I see you're the wedded man, now, General." The modulated voice spoke behind Armitage. Without needing to turn, he knew it to be Kylo Ren, Snoke's student himself. He was finally out of the medbay's infirmary, and gladly so. It was apparent he had began to, while on the better half of the mend, torment his nurses and doctors with Jedi mind tricks and taunting them with the force. He didn't like it when his people were demeaned. "Ah, and your ring? Shouldn't you be wearing it?"

"I am wearing it, Ren, you of all people should know jewellery is not regulation nor does fit over fitted gloves," He gritted. The force user nodded, and he added, "Besides, why do you care? Before you know it, Snoke might have found you a bride, or groom of your own," he taunted his counterpart.

Kylo Ren nodded. "I sense something at unrest with you, General. Be it that perhaps, your home life has come to frighten you into acting a way?" But the words he spoke were not taunts. They were as clear a day an observation, an invasion of Armitage's thoughts and feelings.

"Stop fishing in my mind," he growled.

"Stop projecting your insecurities," he retorted, as if they were not two grown men, wearing black and bickering upon a fighter ship within the depths of space. "We, General, have not much in common with one another, but if there is one thing I know better than the Force, it is that we both share difficult childhoods, and have bitter memories.

* * *

It was four days after the wedding, and yet, you were to speak a word to your husband. Perhaps he preferred it that way; you weren't sure, and sure as the stars were not about to ask him. The betrayal of your bloodline, your father selling you like a mule to marry a pompous red-headed merciless man, your step-mother treating you like manure all of your life to be treated like one of her own, full-blooded daughters in the trade for peace. And the fact that, when you walked down the room four days ago, the General, Armitage Hux had looked almost human, seemed and sounded so until the spell had broken, and work needed to be completed.

In four days, you had lay by yourself on the farthest side of the bed, curled into your own body like a mite in a wall seeking warmth. You had prepared dinner, for yourself and your husband, to find he had already eaten out at the cafeteria in the base, woken early, too early to be awake to see him leave you a lukewarm half of the bed smelling of his cologne and the crisp scent of metal.

You had sat around in his living quarters, in varying states of boredom, hoping -- praying that you could find the courage to speak to him, like a human being should. Your voice was starting to go, having not be used as often as you had talked back on your home planet, accustoming itself to whispering to yourself for fear of being heard, murmuring lullabies when the bed was empty when you went to bed to lull yourself to rest.

There was one thing, that was good about being alone, especially being alone with a Datapad that your husband had allotted to you. It meant that with all the wild thoughts you were thinking, the untamable side of you that you'd thought been because of your bad bloodline, could come out into words. Into poetry.

"I see you found the Datapad I left for you," you jolted in the armchair, meeting the cold gaze of your husband, the General of the First Order. "I made sure it was offline, so you could not accidentally contact anyone of rank under my name, to cause trouble."

You nod. "Thank you," the words tumble out before you can catch them; they are the first words you had spoken to him. He is still for a moment, almost as if he is stunned that this is what your voice sounds like. Then, he straightens his coat, and moves toward the bedroom to change into after hours dress. "Did...did you have a good day?" you add.

Once more, his footsteps are halted. Turning, he looks to you where you are seated, and nodding, replies, "I suppose I did. Ren did not wreck any equipment," his words are factual, empty. Like food without nutrition, a body with no soul inside. "And the GT unit graduated to combat-ready troopers."

You nod. "But did you not...feel anything?" you ask him. "I mean, did you have a good day...did it _feel_ like a good day?" I can see him hesitate, just ever so slightly before shaking his head, and marching off to change his clothes. It was almost like he was human, for a glimmer of a second, like he was something I could see anywhere, a face, and not a fascist fan of warfare, a general of the First Order. "...I wish I had someone to talk to," you mutter aloud.

* * *

He had never anticipated that the only man he could turn to about his home life problems was the man who had always seemed to be against him in all he wished to complete as general. Kylo Ren had always been a troubling figure, and always will be, seeing as his volatile nature had not decreased since his ass-kicking by the scavenger girl. But, when he was with a moment to spare, Armitage would find himself seeking words of wisdom from the man who had killed his own father, and abandoned his family and all he loved for a life serving Supreme Leader Snoke. How strange.

"She spoke to me yesterday," he muttered over his hot cup. It was rare that he had time for a cup Caf like a civilised human being, but here he was, standing with Kylo Ren like he had all the time in the world as their new base was being processed. "A handful of words. Wanted to know about my feelings."

Behind the mask, he made a noise. "Feelings? What useless things."

He made a humming nose, inhaling the fumes of the caffeine, the beautiful smell of productivity and rarely sourced beans. "I know. But when I answered, I don't think she liked what I said."

Kylo Ren shrugged, turning his back toward the officers in the area below where they stood on the bridge. "If I were you, I wouldn't care about what she liked. But, I'm not you, and you have to live the rest of your life with her, and you need to figure out what this young woman wants from you in order to live somewhat a little of the life you used to live." His voice is deep, but not threatening in the way he delivers the warning. It's almost like Kylo Ren is living through his actions; doing things he might have wished to do if he was not the student of Snoke. "You're not a bachelor anymore, General."

He nods. "Perhaps I need to talk to someone about... _feelings_...before I take it up with ________ Hux." He tips his cup back, draining the liquids into his system like fuel into a ship. It's then he wonders if the Captain has any time on her hands to talk with him.

* * *

In the rooms, you turn the Datapad from you. It's almost like that piece of machinery is all you have now; ever since the pair of you shared words, there has been silence. It had seemed a bad idea to talk to your husband in the first place, but now it has been almost a week since, and there have been no more words spread since.

You had been raised to be a social creature, albeit, not the real deal that your sisters were, but being surrounded by one man, and a Datapad was no company for a Princess. And here you are; holed up like a hostage, wearing clothes that smelt odd, eating foods you hadn't before, sleeping beside a man who ignored you and screamed at all like he was the devil, or a demon, or even a monster, and where you were was his domain, his hell.

You mightn't have been the perfect princess by blood, or by training, but there was one thing you sure could do, and that was write. Even if it was terrible, it was out of your head; one less thought buzzing around like a mysterious bee's case solved. It wasn't long until your fingers were dancing over the Datapad's keypad like spiders with tap-dancing shoes, the words spelling poetry that had poisoned your mind to paralysis until that moment. You expelled the thoughts, all of the thoughts; the terror of your father abandoning you like he did, the marriage, the trauma of leaving your home planet for an indefinite (most likely for the rest of your life), being near the man who had ordered the death of people under the name of the First Order.

The door opened.

You slid the Datapad underneath a cushion beside you on the couch, turning to see your husband Armitage Hux entering the room. But it was not your husband who came forth; it was not a man you had met before. He was covered head to toe in black, robes and gloves, pants, boots, and the mask - he was Kylo Ren, grandson of the feared Darth Vader.

"Are you here to kill me?" you whisper. With every step he takes toward you, your blood chills, colder and colder until you're sure your heart will surely stop, and you shall be dead before he lands the force nor hand upon you.

He shakes his head. "I am here to speak."

* * *

Captain Phasma did not seem the type of person to have an office. She did not seem the kind of person to be interested in romance novels either, but Armitage knew his staff, and he knew them well, and with nearly little encouragement, he was sitting in her office, discussing his personal life over the three novels he had managed to procure in case of an emergency such as this.

"General," her voice modulator intoned.

"Captain," he replied.

She placed her hands upon the desk that separated the pair of them, glancing to the books he had found from a trader who printed copies of what was known as the underground market for love literature. "From your message, I hear it is because of your ability to be straightforward, and a great General that is straining your relationship with your new wife." She gets to the business quickly, leaning forward. "But what you haven't told me is that you haven't tried to ask her if she's okay. If she feels safe, if she needs anything."

He is silent for a moment. "...what?"

Phasma removes her helmet, and clears her voice. Without the modulator straining her words, she clarifies, pushing her ice blonde crop from her eyes, "Sir, I know you have had a troubled life, more than what most people do encounter, but know that she might have connections, complications, roots that tie her  from your place here, and without nurture, she will be a shell."

He chuckles. "I didn't know you were such a woman of words, Captain."

She growls, placing her helmet back onto her shoulders. "I have to return to the HY unit before they begin to shoot each other on accident," she marches off, her great stride evident of her gruff retort. But inside, Armitage knows she's thankful for more reading material, and to help out above and beyond her grade.

* * *

Kylo Ren sat beside you, but not half an hour later, he was making points to you which made clearer a sense than anything you had been able to find in your rational mind. If you had thought no more than a week ago you would be seated beside the most dangerous force user the galaxy had seen since the tyrannical reign of Darth Vader, and Darth Sidious themselves, and there was no killing involved of either party, you would have dismissed it as a daydream.

"...you mean, he's just under orders?" you summarise the modulated voice of the man beside you. "He's still a shitty person for doing evil stuff. Stars, that's the worse excuse anyone has ever tried to give me, and I've been lied to a lot." you huff, crossing your arms. 

Kylo Ren shakes his head. "I thought you were a princess, _______, aren't princesses supposed to be docile creatures?"

You narrow your eyes. _Was your mother docile?_

He grunts. "I heard that. But you're right. She was always doing her best for all she could. Even if she couldn't save me...she never has stopped fighting for her causes." You wonder if there is remorse in his voice, but you remember who you're talking to. Kylo Ren probably has been programmed since a young age to not feel anything like that. "I'm still a man, you know. As is Armitage."

You nod. "Sorry."

He waves a gloved hand. "I shouldn't even be here, let alone talking to his wife, but you need to know that the only way to get through to Hux is through his heart, as cold as Hoth as it seems. He wasn't always the top dog he seems to be." You go to ask, but he waves you off. "Armitage was a bastard, whose father only kept alive due to the fact his stepmother, was infertile. Brendol Hux needed an heir, and an admiral in training, and subjected him to a life of training to be the machine he is today." 

Your hands upon your lap grow cold -- your blood, your thoughts; it was almost like you. What was it with powerful men spreading their seed around like a devil-may-care gardener? You realise all too late that with these thoughts in your mind, the man before you has already read them.

"You're not a true princess," he stands, towering over you.

You snap up, whipped onto your feet, trying to match his height. "And you're an ass."

The door to the suite opens at that moment, and your blood runs cold. It's none other than your husband, Armitage Hux, and his pale face grows redder than his hair by the second. 

* * *

 

"Ren, stay away from my wife," Armitage grits out, but he isn't sure why that's the first thing he really wanted to say. He had initially wanted to walk in and ask how _her_ day was, unlike last time, and listen despite the fact he was a very busy man. Maybe, he would suggest he would cook, and they could watch something on the projector, like the pre-rebellion era times two generations ago. 

But now, he's standing in the entrance to his rooms, and his wife has the murderous look upon her face like an angel of death, and Kylo Ren, of all people aboard the Finalizer, is before her. And if Armitage knows anything despite how to yell and boss people around, it's that Kylo Ren doesn't like being challenged by anything or anyone, especially princesses who are infuriated. 

"I'm barely your wife, you don't get to say that," she whispers, but to him, her voice is like a sword of ice, slashing at his soul.  

Kylo Ren strides toward him. "She is not a princess, _________ is a false idol, the firstborn of King Hyperion is nothing but a bastard. Like you, General." He spits out, rolling his shoulders as if testing his fury beneath his skin. "Supreme Leader Snoke must be informed at once that he has been tricked into a less than favourable girl and her tricky father."

Armitage cannot think; his thoughts are rushing too fast within his mind. But what he does know is that he cannot allow Kylo Ren to tell their mentor the news, and without another thought, grabs a hold of the man's arm. 

"Let go of me -," He growls.

Armitage's brow furrows, anger resonating from with him. "She is no less a human being for being of an alternate birth to those who intended it," he hisses, "________ is not a woman for you to hurt, like all the women before; she is my wife, and whether she wishes it or not, I will protect her from the likes of you, and all of your ill intent to sabotage the both of our careers, Kylo Ren. You may be his student, but I am his General, and I have more than enough power to cause your life aboard this ship a living hell, force sensitive or no." From the corner of his eyes, he sees his wife, her swaying form still, her eyes watching his every breath. Before he can stall any longer, he adds, "If I catch you in my rooms one more occasion, ruining our private lives, I can assure you that you will be more alike your grandfather by losing a limb for every second you stay here."

Kylo Ren leaves at once. 

"I'm sorry I have been a terrible -,"

He's interrupted by you, the voice he is still learning the sound of, the voice his heart flutters at like a little boy and his first love, the way like he knew every other person in the galaxy acted like when they were married to such a beauty. Arranged marriage was not a easy thing, and he knew that, Kriff, did he know that, but an arranged marriage, to the woman who stood before him, the beauty who had more power than anyone on board the ship simply by holding his heart - it made it all the more easier. 

"I was afraid you would hurt me like you have hurt all those innocent people in the galaxies," you whisper. "Kylo Ren came in, and assured me otherwise of that, and from that terrifying speech, I seem to understand now that you don't hate me." Your voice is but an echo, but if he could, he would catch it and hear the reverberations of it for all eternity. "My blood, or otherwise."

He shakes his head. "I can't say I like my job, _______. I can't say I like myself, for what I do, and I surely cannot say that I am a man who knows what it is like to feel...but for you, I will not hurt anyone, not harm a soul, not even you."

You nod. 

"Do you hate me, or do you fear I am the devil, _______?" He wonders.

You shake your head. "The latter, but if you can prove to me that you will not be the man who people cower from, at least to me...I can't promise it, but I will try to being to trust you." You vow. "At least I'm not married to Kylo Ren, or an old rich man who'd control my every thought." you chuckle, earning a small smile from Armitage. 

"We're just two people who have similar stories, and are placed together," Armitage's voice is small, as he closes the distance between the both of you. "I think we should adopt a cat, and I shall cook, and you can do whatever you please, and we can try and look each other in the eye." He proposes.

"A cat would be lovely," you nod, raising your head, your lips but inches away from his own. It would be the second kiss you share with him, the first when you had only known his name, and professional identity. But now, you reach up, and connect, eyes closed, melding into one. Not a breath is shared for minutes, until he releases you to take a breath. "But taking this into the bedroom would be lovelier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because I really needed some fanfic closure about the release of his full name [(a link is here to it)](http://www.digitalspy.com/movies/star-wars/news/a800936/star-wars-the-force-awakens-villain-general-huxs-full-name-has-been-revealed/) and well, I got really into it and wrote far too many words than I usually do. Hope you all enjoyed!


	3. Oh No, Set Me Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is all fine and well, but you are lonely, you are restless, and, you are homesick. Your husband Armitage takes pity on it, and allows something he'd never thought possible: a week to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a comment which wanted another chapter to this fic, and well, I love Hux, and there's no saying no to a good challenge!

But as far as adopting cats and consummation, life went on, and that's what happened. Didn't it always happen? In all the stories you had read, there was no such thing as a happily ever after. The heroine succumed to the sands of time, and was buried upon the hill her blood came from. The stars faded, new ones bore themselves across time and space, exploding, bearing bright colours, bright lives. You took up the Datapad, and took to the pad with the words which broke your mind into pieces, islands that floated so far away from what you thought you knew your own self. 

Kylo Ren did not come back into the apartment, as did the other people who came in to clean and cook when you weren't in the mood to, or too tired to. The only face you saw was just like before you burst, shouting words to your husband; exactly him. He'd ask about your day, and you would respond. But it just felt fake. Like you would wake up, and be back on your home planet, surrounded by your half-sisters and the courtiers, and the evil woman who made you feel like a second-rate citizen, your step-mother. 

But it was no dream. You were aboard the Finaliser, alone for most of your time in the rooms your husband and General had privilege of. But after a week, a brightly clad trooper by the name of Phasma entered. You knew at once what she was, and followed her as she led you out, and escorted you to a room in which filled you with awe. 

"I know what it's like being stuck in the one place for ages," she grunted through the helmet, arms beside her sides at attention, as per military regulation. Before you, was a training room. It was otherwise derelict, containing equipment which seemed out of regulation, out of date, considering the amount of dust in the air. "Before joining, the First Order I came from the same world as you, where women were to be pretty, seen and unheard. The stories had the woman stolen by a dragon, or left waiting for a prince to save her from the castle. But I was my own dragon, my own prince. I saved myself." She turns to you, motioning to the gym equipment. "The General doesn't know I've brought you here, and as far it goes, never will. Understand?" 

You nod. It has been ages since you last walked outside of the confines of your room, and longer still from the last time you had been to the place where you could expel the excess energy from yourself. 

"Understood." 

* * *

 

Kylo Ren smirks upon entering the bridge of the Finaliser. Not that Armtiage knows that he is smirking, but there's a certain quality to the black-clad knight of Ren which makes him suspect that he's being smug, and being quite childish about something for one reason or another against the better interest of Ben Solo. 

"What is it this time?" He growls, eyes ahead on his task, listening to Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka rattling off the names and tasks for the day ahead. If Armitage didn't know any different, the officer was almost an assistant to him, always coming between the conflict of interest between both Commander and General of the First Order. "If this is about that machine you placed on my chair, I am not impressed." 

Kylo Ren stood there, arms crossed. A moment passed, and then a chuckle. "No, it wasn't about that, although, that was funny." He laughed once more, and added in a darker tone, "I felt a disturbance in the force this morning during meditation. Something is to happen, and it is to happen soon." 

Armitage waved a hand toward his second. "You and your feelings. There's always a disturbance, this way and that in the galaxies. Perhaps you need medical attention, or a psyche assessment, Ren?" He suggested.

"Kriff you," he muttered, stalking off. 

* * *

 

On a Thursday, the person who enters the door to yours and your husbands rooms is not your husband, or Phasma leading you to an hour away from the walls you seem to hate closing in around you while alone. It is the maiden who aided you to dressbefore the wedding , to feel like you were a human being surrounded by a place where you could breathe, and not an single cell alone in the world. 

Anwen.

"Highness?" She asked, cautious. 

At once, you dropped your Datapad, and fled to where she stood, wrapping your arms around her frame. It wasn't that you were touch-starved, you lay beside a man who held you close when he came in to rest, and you felt that after breaking ice, it felt more natural than not. But she was here, and she reminded you of the days from before the marriage, when you were still a free woman, a single woman.

"Oh! Are you all right, m'lady?" She wondered, words bewildered. 

You nod, reluctantly removing yourself from the woman who had proclaimed herself upon meeting you your servant. She was just as she was the day you left her, to become married. "I'm ever so sorry, Anwen, I - I haven't been around people who I could...I miss my family." You confess to her. 

She gathers your hands in her own, leading you to the sofa where you had rushed to her from, and once seated, she opened the curtains, spreading the sight of the stars and the galaxies visible from the open space of the Finaliser windows. "Have you asked the General if you are allowed at all to visit your family? Last time, you spoke sad about being more than a guest...was there another person in your life?" she wondered.

You shook your head. "No, there wasn't. There were just my sisters; it was a rarity to not wake laughing from pleasant dreams, to not hear their voices at all in the castle. I'd always loved them, even if their mother didn't love me..." you trail off, remembering. Your bed was apart from their own, but without trying, your younger siblings had always allowed you to share with one of them, to be apart of their lives. You were the first of the nine daughters, and it would seem all eight cherished you as one of their own. "...I wish, sometimes, deep in my heart that I could go back, and visit them. Just one more time, if I could. Sometimes, when I'm dreaming, I'm with them, in the rooms, playing the games they played on each other, but when I wake, I'm," your throat is thick, eyes threatening tears. "I'm here." 

* * *

Armitage Hux wakes in the night with the sound of tears, and turning in the sheets, sees in the pale moonlight of a passing planet where it comes from. Beside him, lays his wife, curled inward, near foetal like a newborn babe, hair tousled by the touch of sleep. Curled in her arms is the small ginger cat, a pretty feline named Millicent. Her eyes have the stuff of the stars falling from them, leaving a bright silvery trail down her cheeks.

"________?" he whispers into the darkness, shifting in the bed slightly. He hasn't had much time to know the language of princesses, or at least, pleasantries, and clumsily, they spill from his lips, "Love, are you feeling well?"

She shifts in the sheets, eyes blinking apart, bearing the colour he loves so much. Another tear falls, and Millicent writhes against her form, seeking warmth, a steady heartbeat. _Affection_. "It's nothing, go back to sleep, Armitage," she murmurs, wiping the tears with the back of her wrist off, and away. He shakes his head, leaning close as to touch her face with his own. "Please, it's silly." 

"Nothing is silly if you cry when you think I can't hear," he frowns, inspecting her face. "Tell me, was it a dream? Are you unwell - I can have a droid here to examine you -," he is interrupted by a laugh, but it is mirthless, sad.

"I'm only homesick," Armitage hears her utter, turning her face as to not meet his gaze, to face his dismay at the weakness of containing feelings. But to the contrary; it was until his wife appeared in his life he was a lifeless statue, awoken by the presence of someone who knew the troubles of living the way he did, following a path as he did. "I miss my sisters, all of them...the birds, as they sang," her lip wobbles, and his breath caught. "I dream of it, and wake sad. I write about it, but words are empty, useless things. Oh, Armitage, my words are meaningless, and float around and they're not real. It's just words, they aren't where I love." her voice chokes up, more tears falling. 

"Would you forgive me," he suggests, slowly, like a jailer offering a plea bargain to a wench in his care, "if I issued a ship to you, and an appropriate guard, to return home? For - a week?" he asks his wife, the woman he holds the highest in his life, his icy heart. The words barely leave his lips when he regrets them; what if she never returned? What if she was used against the First Order? What if -

Her tears catch, and for a fleeting moment, they pause. "You aren't just saying things, are you?" she asks hesitantly, searching his eyes for answers beyond his own words. "You really mean this?" she wonders.

He nods, almost regretting doing so. "I love you, for all who you are, and all of your life to come," he reminds her, thinking back to the day he vowed to do so, to protect and serve her as he did his position in the First Order. Their souls were bound, for all the end of time, and for reasons he knew not, he wanted to honour it. Maybe it was his dignity, but a small voice behind his mind's eye whispered _love._  "I'll have you out by dawn. One week." 

She nods, eyes bright, smile faint in the moonlight. "One week," she echoes. 

* * *

In the morning, your bag is filled, eyes puffy from the escapade between the sheets, but awake, alive. It's like you can breathe again, like you were a balloon held beneath the tides, left unwittingly to drown. True to his word, you are aboard at dawn, with four troupers on board. The parting gift he gives you is a lingering kiss, and a small box, in which he tells you to open once you are in the territory of your father, King Hyperion, once alone. 

The last thing you see of the Finaliser is his hands. It sounds strange, but for the first time, they are not at attention while standing in parade in public; his left hand is raised, swaying as the door lifts to a close. He is waving. A small pang hits your chest; it's almost like he is not the same man as he was when you met him, that over time, your presence, you have somehow changed the beast that the General of the First Order was famed to be. 

Off in your mind with these thoughts, you almost miss the captain of the vessel telling you that the atmosphere had been reached for your home planet, that the castle was only a mere set of moments away, not light-years. You felt a giggle rise from your chest, bursting the serene appearance you held. Like a child, you laughed. 

In moments, as promised, the ship descended, and you were stepping foot once more upon soil, and entering the castle in which you grew up within. The halls were as you remembered; the colour of the earth, deep and rich, dark and warm. Before you knew it, there was a scream, and your sight was engulfed by the ones who you had missed so much. 

"It's _________! She's back!" the youngest sister Adora cried, running toward you, jumping up to grasp you in a hug around your neck, legs wrapped around your waist. Her dark hair fell from the style, gap-toothed smile wide. Sylvie and Januaria came next, wrapping their arms around you, tight as you remembered their burning sisterly love to be, followed suite by Medea, holding hands with the second-youngest princess, Erendia. At once, the rest came; Eleri, Raine, and last, Isolte. All of them were overjoyed, talking at once, touching your hair, basking in your presence. 

But it was not long for their mother to appear. 

Queen Phebe was just as you remembered; an eagle-winged parasite in which she kept those she treasured close, and destroyed those she didn't with a slash of her proverbial talons. Her dark hair flew around her like a ring of ebony fire, eyes narrowed in anger. 

"And the false child dares show her face here again," she sneered, pushing her daughters from around you, eyeing everything about you. "I thought that you were to be gone from us the moment you married the General." She crossed her arms, defiant at your appearance upon the lands she ruled with your father. "Or have you ran from him? Shameful girl, you put us all in bad appearance from your intolerance." 

You shake your head, and at once, you raise your chin. All of your life before becoming a part of the Finaliser, you had cowered at the queen of your country, kept quiet, kept your head down. But you were ________ Hux, and you had more than you could count behind you. For the one who holds the heart of the one with an army, holds the army too. 

"He allowed me to visit," you reply, not backing down. "I'm to be here for a week, Queen Phebe, and if you do not allow me to step foot on my own homeland's soil, you shall have the First Order to answer to. The Knight of Ren, Kylo Ren would not react well to know he is insulted, as would my husband." 

She recoils, eyes widening at the boldness of your tone. "A week. No more." 

* * *

Armitage cannot sleep that night, as the bed is too cold, and Millicent mews, crying for the one that she misses too. It has only been twelve hours, and it feels untrue; like the whole affair had been concocted by his maddening mind, and that he was just a man, the General of the First Order, destined to lie alone, awake at night, live alone for the rest of his years. But he knows _______ will return. There is still a small voice which tells him otherwise, but he ignores it; ignorance is bliss, and yet, he is less than blissful without the princess beside him, to greet him, to help unwind him from the day he spends organising the new Empire to rise, to remind him that with filth and grit and hard work, there is reward with her beauty, her words, her presence.

And yet, he cannot sleep.

The second night, he tries to ignore the sleeplessness, furrowing his head into her pillows to inhale her scent, but alas. It would seem her smell had gone, evaporated into the air, gone. He tries not to seem like he is saddened by it, but Armitage feels a tug in his chest. _Emotions_. It's been so long since he was a young boy, gangling limbs, with red hair and scars over his knees from playing outside too much, afire with hormones, with life, with passion.

With a huff, he turns out of the bed, and donning a robe, grabs his Datapad and takes to the living area of his rooms, trying to sort the emails, the tasks, the jobs to complete that he hadn't, and had retreated to sleep without finishing. But as he delves to do so, a glint of glass winkling in the flickering lights distracts him. Glancing to his right, his eyes set on his wife's own Datapad, half hidden behind a plush cushion the colour of a vibrant ray of sunshine. Armitage's heart sinks once more. The feeling is almost like she has died, and all he can do is wallow in the presence she had left behind.

The next morning upon the bridge, Kylo Ren hands him a vial the colour of coral, and folds it into his gloved fingers. The Knight of Ren is solemn, that he can tell, but before he can ask why he's being given pharmaceuticals from his co-worker, the other man explains.

"It's not to poison you," he assures him, and heaving a sigh, turns to see the sight out of the main window. "Trouble sleeping comes with them leaving. It's from when I..." he does not finish that sentence, nor does Armitage need him to. He knows. "Take it. One at night." 

His fingers curl around the pill bottle. "Thank you, Ren." 

* * *

The week flies faster than you had thought a week possible to do; time passed so slowly aboard the Finaliser, and now, there was the news you had to spread, that it was time for you to return to your husband. Every one of your sisters had tears in their eyes, sparkling. Your mind was dancing with their words, and their stories, the things that had happened since you were gone, the things that would happen after you left again. You told them a countless array of times that they could come to visit you, but to always ask in advance, as your husband was a busy man, in the war business. 

It was when it was time to hug the last, the eldest sister, Isolte, when you saw her jaw quivering. Upon accepting her hug, you heard her voice in your ear, breath hot, tone low as to not catch suspicion from the rest. "I heard words shared in father's office, between officers, _______ - they have plans to overthrow the First Order, to murder your husband, General Hux." Her voice quivers. "You have to go now."

You break away at once, searching her eyes for it to be a joke, an untruth. But you do not see it in her eyes; you only see the fear of a seventeen year old girl, the next queen in line for the planet her parents rule. But she is brave, holding her chin high, like you taught her. 

"Thank you, I shall miss you too," she speaks, hiding her fear behind the perfect princess smile you were all to do. "May your travel be speedy." 

At once, you fled to the ship, ignoring the cries of your sisters, the snarky protest of your stepmother as she tried to quell them, to still her daughter's moans. Your feet carried you as fast as you could to the ship, to find the guards on board down - all down. They seemed to be asleep, as was the pilot. For a moment, your heart stilled, silence by fear. But then you remembered what you had learned from the time in the abandoned gym Captain Phasma had brought you to. There had been many books hidden in the walls, from romance novels, to manuals. You had read a tome on piloting on one occasion. 

"I have to try," you spoke aloud, taking all your strength to shift the sleeping pilot from the main chair, to access the buttons. "I'm no better than my father if I don't try. I can do anything I think of. I am a princess - no. I am the wife of General Armitage Hux." you steel yourself, turning the ship on, pressing the buttons and coordinates into the computer. The door closed, the engines burst to life. And you were on your way to the man you swore to love, and protect.

* * *

"There are warships approaching, sir!" Lieutenant Mitaka shouted, his voice echoing up the halls where Armitage stood. His lips parted, eyes wide. Whatever could have attracted their attention? They had their cloaking devices on, their treaties signed to be in the current airspace; he could not understand - until he figured it out. "Sir, General," Mitaka was breathless, face red from running, "There are five on radar. Computer suggests resistance forces."

He shakes his head, glancing to his hands. He places his cup of Caf down, and marches alongside his Lieutenant to the bridge, to the monitors. Sure enough, there are five dots upon the screen, each closer than the other. From the signal, he knows their code, where they came from. Call it a quirk, but he never forgets a planet's armada's code. 

"Hyperion," he frowns. 

Mitaka beside him, makes no sound or movement as to suggest that he too knows what that name means. He can only guess that this has been that King's power-play - to trade off his daughter, and then destroy the greatest war fleet in the history of time in space. 

"Rouse Kylo Ren, to report to the bridge immediately. I need him, the Captain and all available Storm Troopers to report to the weapons bay." he snaps, eyes narrow. From his waist, he releases the blaster attached for emergencies, and turns toward the approaching ships outside. "This is no resistance, this is war." 

* * *

As fast as you can, you hurtle through space, hoping that the engines and the thrusters would hold the momentum enough for the hyperdrive to kick. They must have stolen the coordinates from the home location of the ship you were in, to get to the Finaliser; a ship as large as it was, and as fast as it was was surely hard to track. Oh, why hadn't you known; you were a naive to trust your father, to return? It had felt nice to see them once more, yes, but there was the fact that you were married to Armitage Hux, the officer who you'd seen melt into a man, who had waved you off.

You had a duty now. Not to your planet. Not to blood. But to the man you loved.

The hyperdrive stuttered, falling out of the jump, and just as well. You were on the outside ring of the warships, all with markings from your home planet. You recognised the main one; it housed the leader, your father, and the men of his guard. The box Armitage had given you was still unopened, and sat beside you in the copilot's seat. All of the week, you had been without a moment spare to breathe by yourself, always surrounded by your beloved sisters. Without a moment to think, you ripped the lid from the box, and gasped.

A blaster. It was big enough to have a twin barrel, but small enough to fit perfectly in your hands. Engraved on the handle, in block letter, read _HUX._ It had to be a dual weapon, one of a private collection, the second blaster in the Hux collection. It was your weapon; your gift from him.

At once, you set the ship to autopilot, and gathering yourself and the blaster rushed to the escape pod, and clambered inside. It was the only way to get there fast, not when the ship was injured from the journey across space itself. Inside, you programmed the pod, and squeezing your eyes, felt every fibre and atom in your body being flung across the empty darkness of the stars towards the Finaliser. 

You had to save him. 

Because sometimes, rarely, in the stories you had read as a child, there were princesses who had set out to quest, to save the day: to save the soldiers. 

 

* * *

 

The ships had docked. The soldiers were falling. Kylo Ren had been shot, strategically in the place where he had been before by the Wookie when Starkiller had fallen. The opposing force were advancing, gradually coming to where he stood. If this had been a year ago, he would have been fearless. Shooting down anything in his way. But there was no way of knowing if ________ had been behind this, or if they had her hostage on board the main ships, and Armitage cursed himself for the weakness of love. 

On screen, there showed the footage of the troopers going down, the enemy advancing. How had it come to this? Was this the end of the First Order? The -

From the corner of his eye, he saw a missile, something outside the window which looked very unusual. It looked like one of his ships' escape pods; it was round, and hurtling toward the ship, too fast to make a safe docking. 

"Everyone at alert!" He shouted, flagging the leader of the combatant troops' attention to the escape pod. At once, everyone's attention was on it, their blasters raised into position. 

"Activate the oxygen masks, and prepare for company!" The trooper shouted. Armitage grabbed one from a fallen trooper, and luckily so, because if he had placed it on a second later, he'd be dead. The pod smashed through the glass, skidding into the furthest reach of the room. Quickly, Armitage cocked both his gun, and hand toward a control panel to seal the breach, to add the protective layer where the glass had been. It was no good fighting an enemy if there was a chance of being sucked out to your death into the stars. "Blasters at the ready!"

The pod opened, and toppling from inside, was -

"_________!" He shouted, his voice strange through the modulator of the trooper helmet. At once, he tossed the helmet from his shoulders. He didn't care if there was enough oxygen in the air to breathe, or if he ever breathed again. He was under attack, and there was a surefire possibility he could die. But his wife, his _________ was before him. It would be okay to see her again. 

Just as she righted herself, the doors were opened; and Armitage was faced with King Hyperion. The father of his wife looked just as he did the last time he had met him; tall and strong, the scruff on his face fleshing slowly to become a beard. He had thought of the King to be a man who was benevolent, had integrity. But he could only see a man who had gone back on his word for the accords, who used power to corrupt power. 

"Genereal Hux, it would seem that we meet once more," the king raised his blaster. "We will also meet again in death."

There was a click, and at once, there was a light trained onto the forehead of the king. "If you shoot, then so shall I, and I will be an orphan and a widow on the same day." Armitage had never heard such conviction from you; it felt like a contradiction to the princess you were raised to be. But he and you were not true as your titles suggested. And characteristics for such titles could go straight to the trash compactor. "I have enough rounds in my blaster to take out all of you in moments. Don't think my training has gone to waste over the years, and don't think I will hesitate to shoot."

Her father narrowed his eyes. "You're not my daughter, you're a lovechild. A fake!" He cries.

Armitage nods. "I know. It makes her disassociation from you and your petty kingdom's attempt at resistance even more squalid, I should think. Now, King Hyperion, do take in consideration of the threat my wife has issued. It seems feasible payment for what your own wife has caused grief for her life." He raises his blaster, as do the troopers behind him. 

"Call off the invasion, _now_." _______'s voice does not waver. Her eyes bore through the enemies, but she is still as beautiful as the day they were married as she threatens to paint the walls red with their blood. "Or I will."

* * *

In the rooms, you sit, the medi kit before you, patching up the wounds of a crash landing. Armitage had to sort out the administration and damage control from the invasion from your father, and the grand entrance you had made into the atrium of the ship. The Finaliser wasn't immortal; it needed major repairs. But thanks to what courage you had, you'd saved the lives of the First Order, and ended the plans of that scheming father of yours. 

The door to the room opened. Without glancing, you knew the figure entering was a lithe man, tall, slender, with a head of ginger hair atop his head, ruffled from the battle, ruffled for the first time you'd ever seen in your life. You knew it was him, by the way his arms folded around your neck, his scent filling your nose, his hands stilling the stitching of stitches you were completing.

"We have medical droids for that, ________," he reminded you, voice low. Emotional. 

You shrug his hand, and finish the last in the row. "I'll be looked at in the morning. For now, I want to not bleed on you as we look at each other," you snip the thread, and turn to take in your general, your husband.  You lived your whole life thinking one decision could be made by you. Just one. And today, you had made a decision, one which had changed you, which made a future possible for the two of you with no strings attached to the past you had come from. "Armitage..."

"I've missed you," he murmurs, his face fitted in the dip of your neck, warm, calming.

You can't help but laugh, "It's been only a week. And rest assured, I'll never return to where my father breathes, my step-mother's wretched home. I belong here. I belong with you." You turn to face him, lowering your head to meet his lips with your own. "I came in bonds, and being with you - being with you has set me free."

 

_la fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a roller coaster ride! Wow! Thanks to everyone who wanted more of the story to keep me going, and to those who've left lovely kudos (you're all too kind!) and to you the Reader (how corny!) because Hux loves you and you deserve everything under the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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